


a world alone

by waveydnp



Series: dee and fi [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Established Relationship, F/F, Gender or Sex Swap, Homophobic Language, YouTube, very briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 20:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15151064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: in another universe, dan and phil are women named dee and fi. they still do youtube and they're still in love, but some things are different





	a world alone

**Author's Note:**

> this feels weirdly scary to post so please be nice. i wanted this to kind of be an introduction to this au so let me know if you're down for more

The bathroom door squeaks when Fi opens it. She keeps meaning to do something about that. It’s a rather annoying sound, and all it does is remind her how crap this flat really is. She prefers to cling to plausible deniability; it’s not shit, it’s got character.

But creaky rusting hinges aren’t really charming no matter how hard she tries to spin it.

“You planning to put trousers on, or…?” she asks, taking in the view of her girlfriend’s long bare legs and oversized black hoodie, the hem of which falls down nearly to mid thigh.

Dee turns away from the mirror, from where she’s been staring at her own reflection and painstakingly coating her eyelashes in mascara for the past like, ten minutes. Seriously, ten minutes. How could it possibly take that long?

“Wasn’t planning on it,” she says, looking over her shoulder with a grin. “And stop staring at my ass.”

Fi leans against the doorframe. “Unfortunately I can’t actually see your ass, babe. That jumper is like three times too big for you.”

Dee turns back to the mirror, but not before pulling the back of her hoodie up to reveal her knickers. Lacy knickers. Black lace, to be exact, the kind of knickers that don’t do much to hide the rounded shape of her bottom.

Fi doesn’t know what the style is called. She buys the cheapest cotton pants she can find online and doesn’t give it a second thought. She appreciates the look of these ones though, whatever the proper term for them might be, appreciates the way they nestle in between Dee’s cheeks and cut just slightly against the soft flesh of her hips.

“Oi,” Fi murmurs. “We’re supposed to be filming.” She steps forward and splays her hands against lace and skin for a moment before wrapping her arms around Dee’s waist and slipping her hands into the hoodie’s front pocket. She digs her chin into Dee’s shoulder and looks at the reflection of them both.

Dee smiles. “And we will. As soon as I’ve got my face on.”

“Then don’t wind me up, mate.” Fi turns her head to the side and kisses Dee’s neck. Two can play at the teasing game after all. “Also your face is fine.”

“That’s because I’ve nearly finished, you spork. I did not wake up like this.”

Fi just rolls her eyes. They’ve had this argument too many times to count.

“Look,” Dee says, pushing back playfully against Fi with her bum. “We can’t all have perfect skin like you.”

“It’s just gaming,” Fi says without thinking.

“Yeah, exactly.” Dee’s not smiling anymore. “I don’t need those comments today.”

Fi’s mouth snaps shut. Dee’s right— not about her face, but about what people will say about her face if it’s bare in a video.

‘You look tired,’ they’ll say.

‘She’s starting to look her age,’ they’ll say.

They say it about Fi, too, but not as much. Maybe it’s the hair, long and shiny and black with a fringe cut across the eyebrows that somehow drastically softens her features. Makes her look younger than she really is.

‘She’s finally gone full dyke,’ they’ll say.

Dee’s hair is short, the fringe thick and curly with the sides buzzed close to the scalp. She loves it. Fi loves it. It suits her face and had taken her many years of back and forth to work up the courage to commit to.

And she’s stayed strong amidst the increase in hateful commentary, for which Fi is endlessly proud. Her girlfriend is a fucking badass.

But she still can’t film a video, any type of video, without a full face of makeup.

“Ok,” Fi says gently, apologetically. “Sorry, love.” She presses another kiss to that long elegant neck, slower this time, a little more wet.

Dee sighs. The good kind. “Stop that. We have to film.”

Fi pulls a hand out of the pocket and slips it under the hoodie, flattens her palm across the front of Dee’s underwear, the tip of her pinkie pushing in under the lace. This teasing thing is too fun to resist. It’s Dee’s fault anyway. She started it.

“You sure?” Fi breathes, right into Dee’s ear.

Dee nods. “It’s been too long.”

Fi can’t resist sliding her hand down into Dee’s pants, letting her long fingers brush against hair that’s just starting to grow back. She doesn’t touch anything really, just ghosts against Dee’s lips and breathes warm on her neck. “Yeah I know. It’s been like almost a full day.”

“I meant since we filmed,” Dee says, her tone casual as if she’s not bothered that Fi’s finger probably isn’t more than two millimeters away from her clit. “We’ve been neglecting the gaming channel for Radio 1 stuff. I think it’s been like almost two weeks.”

“So what’s another twenty minutes?” Fi says cheekily.

Dee just shakes her head and gives a breathy little chuckle. “Go set up the camera you thirsty bitch.”

Fi bites around the little silver hoop in Dee’s earlobe as she pulls her hand out. “Fine. But put on some jeans.”

-

She hasn’t put on jeans. She’s sat next to Fi on their shitty little futon in her pants and her hoodie, her legs criss crossed underneath herself. Fi shoots a pointed look at all the pale bare flesh.

“Look, it’s summer, yeah? I’m hot. Let me live,” Dee says. She seems a little put out but Fi doesn’t think much of it. Dee’s moods are subject to change more than the average person’s. Not as much as they once were, but still. If she’s feeling a little less chipper than she had been ten minutes ago it’s certainly no cause for concern.

“If it’s hot you could wear, y’know, shorts? A t-shirt? Not be half naked for all the internet to see?”

Dee snorts. “All the internet. Right.”

Fi hates that she’s right. Their audience is not that big, not even close. It is growing though, slowly. Turns out the internet kind of has a thing for pretty girls playing video games together. A much bigger thing than it has for pretty girls with separate channels for-- well, for anything. It’s why the gaming channel and their joint radio show have semi-sort-of taken off while their respective solo projects all seem to fizzle. People don’t really want to see them if they’re not together.

Not together together. Their official branding is pretty fucking vague, actually. Has been from the very beginning, but only the very outer fringes of their audience even entertain the possibility that they’re anything more than particularly close flatmates.

They’re happy with that, for now. Mostly.

Fi’s happy with it. She’s happy to live her life and let the spectators make of it what they will. She thinks Dee is too. They don’t really talk about it anymore.

“Besides,” Dee continues. “The camera can’t see from the waist down anyway. No one’s gonna see my sexy legs, Fi. No one but you.”

“What if they do?”

“Then they do,” Dee retorts, an edge of defiance in her tone. “Who fucking cares.”

Fi looks at her out of the corner of her eye but doesn’t saying anything, allowing the tension of the moment to pass unchallenged. Maybe Dee’s not all that happy with the situation after all.

“You ready?” Dee asks, reaching a long arm out to turn on the camera.

Fi nods, plastering a smile on her face though her heart is drumming a nervous beat the likes of which it hasn’t in front of a camera in many years.

“Hello Dee and Fi games diesel engines!” she says enthusiastically. They proceed to bant for a while about how bad Fi is at Mario Kart and how badly Dee wishes there was some way they could play it as a Dee vs. Fi for every video. It’s easy stuff for them at this point. They’ve got their schtick down pat. It’s so routine they don’t even have to think about it.

Then Dee sticks a leg up in the air. The camera can definitely see that. “Look internet, I’ve got my calves out for the lads.”

That’s not routine. Fi takes cares not to let her face reveal anything, but her mind is reeling, scrambling for something to say to make it into a joke. They can always cut this bit out later, of course, but she’s too caught off guard not to instinctually search for a way to make it a funny moment for the video.

“I keep telling her that her laundry won’t wash itself.”

Dee doesn’t miss a beat. “And I keep telling her that a good wife would wash them for me every once in a while.”

-

Fi turns off the camera as soon as they’re done. No lingering bants for the endscreen today.

“What was that?”

Dee shrugs, tossing the controller into the corner of the sofa and standing up. “Look, I’m sorry you’re rubbish at this game, it’s not my fault.”

She makes to walk away but Fi darts out a hand and grabs a handful of hoodie and pulls her back. Dee falls backwards with a huff, right into Fi’s lap. “What?” she asks petulantly.

“Talk,” Fi says.

Dee scootches off Fi’s lap and replaces her ass with her legs, draping them over the tops of Fi’s thighs. Fi runs a hand up smooth skin to cup her palm over Dee’s knee. “What’s going on?”

Dee sighs and pulls her hood up over her curls. She shrugs.

“What?” Fi repeats. “What’s happened?”

Dee’s started working at the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth, never a good sign, especially when she’s wearing lipstick. “Someone took creepshots last night.”

Fi’s stomach drops instantly, before she even has time to process. It’s just a gut reaction at this point. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen, and it’s almost always in situations they’d rather not share with the public at large. “At the cinema?” she asks quietly.

Dee nods.

Well fuck. They’d gone to a late show last night after getting a few drinks and definitely gotten a lot closer than they usually would in public. They’d been feeling loose, their hands a little more grabby than they maybe should have been.

“Show me.”

Of course. Of course someone who gave a shit enough to recognize them and happened to have access to a camera had managed to catch them in the couple of minutes they’d allowed their fingers to intertwine while waiting in line for popcorn. Of course.

“Where’d you find it?” Fi asks. A stupid question, but she’s not really thinking clearly.

“Twitter,” Dee replies.

“So everyone’s seen it.”

It’s not a question, but Dee nods anyway.

“I don’t understand what that has to do with you calling me your wife in the vid,” Fi says gently.

Dee flops backwards dramatically but leaves her legs stretched out over Fi’s lap. “No one gave a shit.”

“What?”

“No one even really gave a shit. Like no one sees it for what it is,” Dee says angrily.

Realization dawns. “Oh.”

“What do we have to do for people to understand that we’re fucking?”

Fi laughs in spite of herself. “Is that something we want now?”

“I dunno. I guess not. I just--” She sighs, exhaling a noisy, frustrated breath. “It just feels kind of shitty that no one even entertains the possibility.”

Fi strokes her thumb along the inside of Dee’s knee. “Not no one,” she corrects softly. “There are… ones. There are Deeona shippers.”

Now it’s Dee’s turn to laugh. “That’s the stupidest fucking ship name ever.”

“It is.”

“Maybe that’s why no one gives a shit. They’re embarrassed to even say it.”

“People give a shit in the way we want them to, babe,” Fi says. “They watch our videos, they listen to the show. Our relationship is none of their business.”

“I know.”

“If we wanted to be out… I mean, we could. Like theoretically we could do that, but we don’t.”

“Yeah,” Dee says.

“So really, isn’t it a good thing that people just assume we’re friends? Doesn’t that just make things easier for us?”

“I guess.”

Fi slips out from beneath Dee’s legs and nudges them apart. Dee complies, spreading them open for Fi to fit herself in between. She braces her hands on either side of Dee’s head, the ends of her hair tickling against Dee’s face.

“Have you changed your mind about stuff?”

Dee’s hands find their way up under Fi’s t-shirt. “I dunno,” she nearly whispers. “Just feels shitty.”

“Yeah.”

“It doesn’t even make sense. They all say I look like a lesbian anyway, so why can’t they understand that I’m your lesbian?”

Fi giggles. “You’re not a lesbian.”

“Yeah, well. Whatever. My point is that people are stupid.”

Fi takes her weight off her hands and lets herself press down onto Dee’s chest. Dee takes the weight easily, wrapping her arms around Fi’s waist.

“It’ll be different someday,” Fi says.

“I know.”

“After the BBC.”

Dee just nods. Fi leans in and kisses her. Dee kisses back with more enthusiasm than Fi had been anticipating, and suddenly she’s acutely aware of the position they’re in and Dee’s fingers on the bare skin of her back and the fact that Dee’s wearing a very small, very sexy pair of pants that she’d love to pull off with her teeth.

When Fi pulls back, the chalky taste of Dee’s lipstick lingers on her tongue. “Also, I’m not your wife,” she says.

Dee smirks. “Is that why all my laundry is dirty?”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thanks to mandy for all her help. come say hi on tumblr @waveydnp, tell me if you care to see more of this universe


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